


Easier

by rolypoly_panda



Category: The Umbrella Academy (TV)
Genre: 5+1 Things, Angst, BAMF Number Five | The Boy, Blood and Injury, Cardiopulmonary Resuscitation, Depression, Drowning, Everyone is protective of everyone, Gen, Hurt Allison Hargreeves, Hurt Klaus Hargreeves, Hurt Number Five | The Boy, Hurt Vanya Hargreeves, Hurt/Comfort, Klaus Hargreeves Needs Help, Near Death Experiences, Protective Allison Hargreeves, Protective Diego Hargreeves, Protective Klaus Hargreeves, Protective Luther Hargreeves, Protective Number Five | The Boy, Protective Siblings, Protective Vanya Hargreeves, Sibling Bonding, Suicidal Thoughts, Violence, but being real here, i adore every single one of them, kinda sorta, theyre all dipshits
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-14
Updated: 2020-10-14
Packaged: 2021-03-08 00:21:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,478
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26956477
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rolypoly_panda/pseuds/rolypoly_panda
Summary: The Hargreeves siblings aren't necessarily known for their immaculate survival instincts. More often than not, someone is in danger of dying at some point or another. Luckily for everyone, Five is dead-setdeterminedto make sure they all live to see another day.Unluckily for everyone, though, is the simple fact that Five doesn't much care for his own life in retrospect...Or, five times Five saved someone's dumbass, and one time everyone savedhisdumbass.
Relationships: Number Five | The Boy & Allison Hargreeves, Number Five | The Boy & Diego Hargreeves, Number Five | The Boy & Klaus Hargreeves, Number Five | The Boy & Luther Hargreeves, Number Five | The Boy & Vanya Hargreeves, Number Five | The Boy (Umbrella Academy) & Everyone
Comments: 19
Kudos: 476





	Easier

**Author's Note:**

  * For [reader_writer_traveller](https://archiveofourown.org/users/reader_writer_traveller/gifts).



> All copyright content doesn't belong to me. All characters belong to Gerard Way and Netflix.

_One._

More often than not, Five had numbers buzzing through his head. Whether similar to the equations sprawled across his wall, or thought up due to a need to determine the specificity of his jumps, Five was always counting, always calculating. Diego had called him a workaholic, once, and Klaus had joked that if he were an _actual_ child, he'd be in mathletes. He had shrugged off their prodding because none of that mattered so long as he got those numbers _right._ The nicknames would come and their judgements would follow, but at the end of the day, Five was always _right_ because he had to be.

That way, he didn't end up killing himself or someone else on accident.

Unfortunately, there _were_ times when he wasn't calculating. When his head was empty as he focused on one thing and one thing only: survival. Five would lose his counts, then. And that would lead to him misjudging his energy. It was a fatal flaw of his, he knew. The Handler had easily exploited it, as had many other enemies in the past. "One should always have their powers under their reign," was what their father had taught them. The man had beaten Five's mind and body into submission, forcing him to keep count, to _always_ count, to never _lose_ his count and never _stop_ counting because, if he did, "there _will_ be consequences, Number Five." His father's voice was still clear in his head, his condescension seething as he explained about how Five may accidentally fling himself into space if he weren't careful. Or how he may clip through a wall or another person and kill himself or someone else if he didn't think twice. For the most part, Five agreed. His escapade to the apocalypse had proven that much...

After all, if he always calculated everything correctly, he would never end up in _stupid fucking situations_ like where he was now, his back to the wood of the display case he was hiding behind, unable to jump because he had stopped counting and, once again, misjudged how much energy he had left.

He blamed Luther for that.

If the moron hadn't been bumbling around without watching his surroundings, he would have heard the Commission agents sneaking up on them. But then again, if Five had been paying attention, he would have been able to warn Luther before they ended up cornered behind the jewelry counter, their heads covered and bodies shaking as the gunfire ripped apart the store. Glass and wood splintered across the floor at their feet, cutting any exposed skin available. Five gritted his teeth against the repetitive snapping of their automatic rifles. His ears rang high-pitched.

In his older body, he had been half-deaf for a reason: gunfire was _loud_. After an unsurmountable amount of exposure, Five hadn't been able to hear in his left ear within months of working at the Commission. The Handler had told him it was a necessary small sacrifice to secure the timeline and, at the time, he had believed her. Though, in hindsight, he had to wonder why he was one of the few agents who never wore a sound-guarded helmet. Perhaps she just hated him that much. It made sense. Luckily, though, time had been fair enough to give him his hearing back when he reverted to his hormonal little self. Everything was crystal-clear, sharper than the glass slicing open his wrists and hands and knees.

He whipped around. At his right, Luther was sprawled on his stomach, hands cupping his ears as he hollered out, "What the hell do we do?"

Five rolled his eyes.

Sure, Luther was young, but he wasn't _that_ stupid, right? Even he must have seen that there was only so much they could do whilst pinned behind a half-masticated display case.

"Can't you teleport us?" Luther whined. "We should _definitely_ teleport, Five!" A piece of wood snapped free from the case and hit Luther's back. He didn't seem to notice, instead staring straight ahead at him, his eyes wide and wilting with fear.

Five scowled under his breath.

He should have been counting. He should have counted how many jumps he had made beforehand, and how many calories he had consumed in the past hour. He should have done the calculations to determine how much protein and fat he would need in case he required a quick getaway. But instead, he had gotten cushy with his brand new family. He had let himself get fixated on minute things, on fucking around, on _Luther_ , on grabbing his hand when the Commission rushed him from behind. Five had gotten them behind the case before the agents could open fire - a sloppy jump born of frantic math - but now it was going to be their death if he couldn't think of something quick.

God _damnit_ , he should have been _counting._

Five jerked away from a large chunk of glass that shattered at his feet. It cut clean through his uniform sleeve, nicking him in the process. The pain was small but illuminating, a bright enough wake-up call for his brain to kick in gear and just _think._

There were four agents, but only one of him. Luther was a liability, but if he could keep him down and out of the way, Five judged that there was a strong chance he could land a blow on one of them. But how he was going to do that was--

" _Five!_ " Luther squealed. "We need to _go!_ " He was right. The display case had nearly been devoured. Any longer and they were likely to get shot full of holes.

Another stick of wood clattered to the floor before Luther, nearly smacking his nose in the process. Luther jolted. 

Five blinked between Luther and the debris and then, over the pop of gunfire, yelled, "Stay there!"

He made a dive for Luther, skidding over sharp shards that tore his uniform until he practically ran head-first into Luther's face. Picking up the wood slab, he slapped it in Luther's confusedly outstretched hand. Shouting directly into Luther's ear, he said, "When I say so, throw this! Over there!" Five gestured beyond the display case. Luther's gaze followed. "Not too far, or they won't buy it!" Then, just as quick as before, Five rushed back to where he once was. Back flat to the wood, he sucked in a deep breath.

There were no mistakes allowed. No do-overs could be done what with how exhausted he already was. It had been a while since the stakes were so high, but it left him shaking with adrenaline. After all, Luther's life was on the line. If he fucked up, that was it. He would be the perpetrator to yet another one of his siblings' deaths--

His heart skipped. Five swallowed thickly. His hands trembled in his lap.

So long as he was precise, Luther would be fine. And even if he did miscalculate, while the Commission was capturing or killing _him_ , Luther could make his escape. That reassurance left him warmer, less frantic and more calculated. He _needed_ to be calculated. Five exhaled through his mouth.

Turning to Luther, he gave a signal.

Luther nodded, twisted around, and chucked the piece of wood.

The movement had the agents snapping sideways in unison.

It was only a second.

A _beat._

Five scurried around the display case's corner and slid across the floor. As soon as he reached the first agent, he snapped into a squat and cleanly swept the legs out from under the man with a solid kick. The agent hit the floor. Five straddled him. He wrenched the muzzle of his gun upwards. Five pulled the trigger.

Brain matter spattered across the floor as the bullet ripped up through the man's chin and out the top of his head. Five jerked back, firearm in hand. Gunshots reanimated the dead agent's body as it writhed in a sudden spray of friendly-fire. Flipping the gun rightways around, Five fired once, twice, three times, each a sloppy shot through the agents' necks. One was dead upon impact with the floor. The other two gurgled on their own blood.

Five sucked in a breath.

The building went still.

The two agents eventually quieted, too.

From behind the display case, Luther was crouched still in shock, his face twisted with horror. He looked pale, as if he were going to vomit, but at least he was alive. That was all Five needed. He never claimed to be a saint, nor was he a child like everyone expected him to be. Murder was easy when it had been his job for so long, but Five forgot how disturbing it must have been for someone so unused to it. Luther was still sensitive, the poor big guy. Five sighed.

They could talk later.

He pushed the safety on the gun and ripped the magazine free. Tossing them both to the ground, Five then stepped around the legs of the first agent he had killed. "You okay?" he asked.

Luther, after a moment, nodded dumbly. "I--You killed them..."

"Let's go." He ignored Luther, moving for the back doors of the facility. "They'll probably send reinforcements. I don't want to be here when they do."

Silently, Luther met Five halfway to the door. As they slipped out back and into the alleyway, Five kept repeating to himself under his breath, "At least Luther's alive...At least Luther is alive..." Because that really _was_ all that mattered to him.

* * *

_Two._

"Vanya? _Vanya?_ " Five caught her head in his hands, trying to get her to look at him. Her eyes rolled around in her head as she mumbled incoherently. "Hey, _Vanya?_ Look at me." She had been knocked over the head by one of the assassins tracking them down and, right now, Five was more concerned about her brains being scrambled than he was about the last agent currently trying to break down the door he had locked. Or, at least, he _thought_ that was his main concern. Seeing as how the door groaned under every body slam made, he knew he was going to switch priorities soon.

Vanya blinked over at him, then behind him, then over at him again. Even in the dim light of the office, Five could make out that her pupils were even, that she seemed coherent, though dazed. _Good_ was the first thing to cross his mind, followed by a brief wondering of how the _hell_ they were getting out alive. It wasn't safe to jump with Vanya being out-of-commission and with a possible concussion, but waiting any longer would have the beast-of-a-Commission agent barreling through the flimsy door separating them, going off the shits like a bull in a goddamn dainty shop.

Five glanced around the room, hissing through his teeth. It was _painfully_ inconvenient to be trapped with an injured Vanya and no feasible way out. There were no windows, a desk with a few office supplies sprawled across it, and only one door. The very door that was creaking underneath the agent's weight, no less. And Five didn't necessarily trust his pathetic thirteen-year-old body to be able to combat his way out of a fight while protecting Vanya, too.

But that seemed to be the only option...

The door caved in, snapping clear off the hinges and slamming to the floor. Five leapt to his feet. He didn't give himself time to worry, to overthink. He just needed to _move._

In a flash of blue, space split around him, spitting him out behind the man. He rammed the heel of his shoe into the back of the agent's knee. The agent flipped around, unfazed, cracking his closed fist to Five's cheek and sending Five _reeling_ , practically breathless as his vision flopped. A hand grabbed him by the back collar of his blazer, lifting and tossing him sideways. Pain throbbed from his cheek down to his jaw, up to his eye socket, a headache sprawling over his skull and pounding in time with his quickening heartbeat. Five squinted up at his opponent.

The man was a fucking _giant_ , well over a foot taller and layering on at _least_ an extra hundred pounds of muscle. Five stood no chance. But then again, nor did Vanya. Not as she was now, curled against the back wall with tremors wracking her from head to toe.

Five scrambled to his feet. He teleported across the room, grabbing a pen from the desk in the corner. Nausea left him winded. Exhaustion tore at his insides. He was nearly burned out, but he forced himself to _fucking move_. He teleported again. Five reappeared above the agent and stabbed the pen downwards, catching him in the collarbone. The man he cried out. He caught Five by the throat. Five choked, jerking instinctively. The agent threw him to the floor. His grip was crushing, practically snapping the bones of his windpipe as he increased pressure, pushing harder and _harder_ and Five couldn't even wheeze. He slapped at the man's eyes, aiming for vulnerabilities but missing poorly. Distantly, he heard Vanya's scream echoing.

"Stop! _Stop!_ " Her powers pulsed, but she had been running on empty since taking out the other agents from earlier, downstairs. " _Stop!_ Please just stop!"

Sweet little Vanya. She always pleaded with her enemies rather than fight with her fists. Now that Five had all the time to think about it, he realized that she was the only one of them that preferred negotiation over some form of aggression. Allison had her rumors, just as harsh as the rest of them. And Luther and Diego were known for their fists. Klaus, even, was notorious for a passive rebellion that ended in a metaphorical bloodbath. But Vanya?

Vanya never did any arm.

Or, she _didn't_ , until her powers sprouted like fucking daisies and people went flying.

The agent punched him again. Five went boneless. His body couldn't recover from oxygen deprivation _and_ power exhaustion, it seemed...

If he died, it wouldn't be the worst thing. It would be relatively quick, certainly quicker than bleeding out or death by poison. As the world blurred and brightened, adrenaline feeding him uselessly, Five found himself growing content. To be murdered by the very corporation he had run from: it was almost cathartic.

His fight grew weaker. Five slowed his struggling. The man throttled him, slamming his head back against the floor again and again, playing with his food, the bastard. The sooner he got it over with, the better.

" _Five!_ " Vanya wailed. " _Please!_ "

But that was right.

If he died, Vanya would die, too. The Commission agent had no need for her. That just wasn't okay. Not with him. Klaus would never forgive him when he came back as a ghost to haunt everyone's asses one last time.

So Five's eyes zeroed-in on the pen sticking out of the man's chest. Without further thought, he grabbed it, ripped it free, and stabbed it through the agent's eye.

The man howled, stumbling backwards off Five as his hands hovered in front of his face.

Air was _agonizing_ to breathe in but Five forced it down, down his abused windpipe, one deep breath, then another. By the third, he was blinking, jumping out of his portal behind the agent. He kicked his foot between the bastard's shoulder blades, sending him sprawling in a heap of blood, twitching and moaning in pain. Five wheezed. A cough shredded the ruined tissue inside. He could taste the blood, but ignored it.

Five's walk to Vanya was more of a stumble than anything else, and as he dropped heavily to his knees before Vanya, she stared at him with red cheeks and shaking lips. He must have looked a mess, with an entire half of his face throbbing and his windpipe feeling sealed shut. But at least Vanya was alive and okay. Or, _mostly_ okay. Five would settle for that. He held out his hand. Wordlessly, she took it, and he hauled them to their feet. Together, they made for the door as a shaky-legged pair.

* * *

_Three._

Klaus wouldn't stop kicking his fucking seat. It was irritating the first time. The second time made Five want to reach around and swat at him. By the fifth, his jaw was clenched so hard it ached. He could feel his pulse in his veins, in his ears, roaring louder and louder with every _kick, kick, kick_ \--

" _Stop._ " Five spun around.

Klaus shrank back. "What...?" He popped his earbuds out, his owlish expression making him look more idiotic than innocent to Five's eyes. "Did I do something?" To his right, Luther rubbed the side of his nose, staring vigorously at the floor, out the window as if telling himself, 'ah, yes, what a nice floor, what a nice road, wow'. He rolled his eyes. They were both _morons._

Five was seething, shaking with pent-up frustration. "You keep kicking my _seat_." he spat.

"Oh." Klaus pursed his lips. Five's eyes narrowed at his nonchalance. Was it a _joke_ to him? Did he think it was cute to be a nuisance to everyone around him? He wanted to tell Klaus that stupidity wasn't cute, but he was so fucking _infuriated_ that he couldn't even open his mouth. Five squeezed his fists instead. His knuckles popped. Klaus continued softly with a shrug, "My bad, bro-a-roni. I was just listening to music. Chillin'. You know how it is..."

"No, I don't!" Five stabbed a finger at him. "Kick me one more time and I'll break your fucking foot off and feed it to a dog!" With that, he whirled back around as a ball of buzzing mania. Five struggled to seal the lid on his anger. Nothing was more cathartic than beating the shit out of someone, but without a human punching bag to take it out on - or, rather, someone he _could_ take it out on without repercussions - Five was left to stew in his own frustration. He folded his arms tightly across his chest, forcing deep breaths. His leg wouldn't stop bouncing, kicking into the footwell of the passenger's seat.

Next to him, Diego chuckled, "What's got your panties all in a twist?"

Five breathed in sharply through his nose. His foot tapped faster. "No wonder you're a shit detective, Number Two."

Diego glared at him. "What'd you say to me?"

"Are you deaf?" Five snarled. " _Piss off._ "

Diego spun in his seat. His eyes left the road. " _Hey_ , how about you--!"

"Diego!" Five surged sideways, grabbing the wheel and snapping it far enough for them to dodge a giant tree branch dropped in the middle of the road. The car swerved. Diego planted both hands on the wheel, holding tight to it as he evened out on the right side of the road. Their breaths came quick, echoing loud in the cramped car.

Everything went silent.

Five was still holding a part of the wheel. He couldn't seem to let it go. He blinked slowly, knowing fully well where he was, what he was doing: he was sitting in the passenger's seat of Diego's car, with Luther and Klaus behind him, coming back from a quick mission. But he blinked again and saw fire and dust, saw ash raining from the sky, choking him as he sat pinned to the wheel, his leg stabbed through with a piece of debris, his van tilted onto its side. Five couldn't move, could hardly breathe as the dust storm approached and Dolores was _screaming_ at him to run, to free himself and forget the fucking supplies because he would _suffocate_ if he didn't _run--_

"--ey! _Hey,_ Five?" Diego's hand was hot on his shoulder.

Five flinched away.

"You with me?" Diego asked. His eyes didn't so much as flicker off the view of the road, but the concern was there, sewn deep into his voice. "Five? Seriously, man, you good?"

Five choked around nothing. His eyes weren't leaving the street, either. He couldn't let them stray away, couldn't risk them being swallowed by the storm, too. He had almost died that night, nearly drowning on fucking _dust_ because he had driven off the side of the road. If that were to happen to Diego too, Five wasn't sure what he'd do. A part of him said he would figure it out, because he always figured it out. But another part of him doubted it, said he would lose himself in the flashbacks, in the memory, in the realization he was going to die.

But so long as Diego was alive, it didn't matter.

Raggedly, Five mumbled out, "Pay attention to the road, you idiot." The insult sounded soft, even to his own ears. Soft, and scared, and that left him bristling with embarrassment. Five eased himself into the corner of his seat, settling his head on the glass of the window. "Pay attention." he whispered, mostly to himself.

* * *

_Four._

He found Klaus slumping against the wall of his window sill, his eyes heavy and distant. What he was seeing, exactly, Five wasn't sure, but he knew that look all too well. It had been the same one that Five had worn for decades, all while wondering whether it was worth it, whether _life_ was worth the trouble. The apocalypse had given him nothing but the instinct to survive. In that world, he had never done anything for pleasure or for gain. The Commission had been a similar experience as well. By the time he had spent most of his life in both places, Five had been at the end of his rope, exhausted mentally, physically, emotionally, drained and left out to dry, desperate to return home...

His eyes had been similar to Klaus', then. Hell, he was willing to bet they still looked that way.

Slowly, Five made his way into the room, keeping his movements slow so as to not startle Klaus. When Klaus glanced sideways at him, acknowledging his presence, Five stepped up next to him. He found a seat opposite his brother, their legs slotted together in the large windowsill. Klaus purposefully knocked their knees together, a coy grin playing on his shadowed features.

Five knew from childhood that Klaus had moments of confusion, of struggling to differentiate reality from his world, from the world of the dead. Oftentimes, as children, he had asked Five if he were truly real, if anything was truly real. Five had never berated him, and had tried to be as patient as possible. After all, he had no idea what it was like to constantly see the dead, to see them more than he would see the living. Klaus' world became filled with ghosts of the past. He would never be able to escape them permanently. That's why Five had never blamed Klaus for his drug usage. It had been irritating at times, yes, and had been a chore to deal with during others, sure. But it had made sense. Five had been in a similar spot in the apocalypse. Drinking young to sterilize his gut, but also to forget where he was, what he was living, what was completely inescapable...

As Five glanced Klaus over, he wondered if he was even sober? Or was he seeing everyone around them and wondering if Five, too, was a ghost of the past?

Klaus' eyes slid over to Five's, their gazes locking. Klaus mumbled, "Hey, buddy."

"Klaus." Five offered gently.

A long moment passed. It was neither tense or stifling, but Five felt the need to say something, to try and soothe the situation. Sentiment was never his strong suit, but he was always willing to try for his siblings. Sure, he would rather try taking down an entire army for them over sorting out everyone's feelings, but Five figured could take a stab at both battles in theory. Though, he was sure he would end up psychologically traumatizing anyone he had a heart-to-heart with, should it come down to something so drastic...

Slowly, he tried, "Do you want to talk about...anything?"

" _Me?_ " Klaus sounded equally as baffled at Five's attempt at sympathy. His head fell back against the wood sill with a thud. "I'm fine. More than fine. I'm _amazing._ "

Five sighed deeply. "What is it this time...?" he mumbled. At Klaus' confusion, Five elaborated, "What drug, Klaus. What are you high on now?"

"Life." Klaus whispered hatefully. His voice was thick with passive anger, a palpable disgust dripping at the edge of the very word. It were as if the damn noun betrayed him, stabbed him in the back. In hindsight, Five supposed it did. They were all dealt shitty cards for the game of Life, and there was nothing any of them could do about it. Five supposed he could reverse it all, go back to infancy, but even then, he couldn't undo who he was supposed to be.

Five frowned at Klaus' admittance. "So you're not--?"

"High?" Klaus finished for him. "Nope. _Well_ , mostly no. It's wearing off..."

Another stretch of silence, though this beat made Five squirm under its thumb. The moment felt heavier. Five picked at his nails. He focused on deep breaths, on being calm. What, exactly, did someone say to cheer another person up? Was he supposed to insist on Klaus telling him what was wrong with him? Or was that rude? Five _thought_ it was rude, but maybe he needed to. After all, answers were answers, and with answers, solutions could be found. But Allison had told him, once that she didn't _want_ a solution, she had just wanted to vent and cry and be upset about something. So maybe Five needed to dig to the root of the problem, but maybe he needed to let Klaus be? He wasn't sure which was best...

As if reading Five's confusion, Klaus said, "You ever see someone die...?"

"Klaus, I was an _assassin_ ," Five tried to keep the impatience from his voice. "I saw a _lot_ of people die."

Klaus turned away, glancing back out the window. "But did you see anyone you _love_ die?"

Five held his breath. His siblings' corpses flashed in the corner of his mind. "Not actively."

Klaus' jaw set. "Then you wouldn't get what's going on, oh little one."

A heat built in Five's stomach. It burned through him, leaving him shaking. His words trembled with rage as he spat, "Don't tell me what I have and haven't experienced, Klaus." He couldn't keep the heat out of his voice, couldn't the flames from glowing in his eyes as he ground out, "Sure, I never had anyone like Dave, but I _did_ have you. All of you. I found your _bodies_ , Klaus. I _buried_ you all." Cutting himself off, Five, too, glared out the window. His cheeks were hot with anger. Anger and pain. It was a pain that he would have left buried for eternity if he could. Buried alongside his siblings' bodies, alongside the guilt that he had carried for decades. Five folded his arms tight across his chest. He was half-tempted to stand up, to leave and just let Klaus mope on his own.

Klaus asked, so softly that Five almost hadn't heard it, "How'd you deal with it?"

Five turned to him. He gave Klaus a once-over, catching the agony glistening in his gaze, feeling the ache in his own chest as Klaus leaned forward with desire, with a _need_ for an answer. But Five knew that the answer he would give wasn't the one Klaus would want. 

"I didn't." Five said. "At first. I...I thought about..." He couldn't say it. Couldn't force it out. Instead, the words caught on the tip of his tongue. It felt too raw to even think about, let alone mention.

Nonetheless, Klaus hummed in agreement. "Yeah..." He fiddled with something in his right palm, transferring it to his left as he sighed and blinked out at the city sprawled out before them.

Five continued, "But, uh, I...I knew I had to get back. Back to you guys, so I just...powered through it."

Klaus smile was bitter. His eyeliner was smeared from where he had started crying. "Not everyone can just 'power through it', Five-y."

Five bowed his head. Klaus wasn't necessarily the strongest person morally, he knew. He leapt from drug to drug, trying to lose himself in a world where pain didn't exist. Five was more assertive, more aggressive. While he tackled his fears with a baseball bat, Klaus hid from them. But if Klaus was good at one thing, Five knew, it was that he was _damn_ good at being persistent. Annoyingly so, oftentimes. Persistent in the things he wanted, and the things he needed. Nobody could stop Klaus Hargreeves from getting what he wanted...

Carefully, he began, "You're...not very strong. Emotionally. I get it." Across from him, he noticed Klaus tighten up. Five remedied shakily, " _But_ , you're...Well, you're a fighter, Number Four. More than any of us." Five found his gaze. "And if there was anyone that knew how to stick it to the shitty moments in our childhoods, it was you. So...just do that again. Or something..."

Klaus relaxed like warm putty before his very eyes. His chin flopped forward to his chest as he laughed softly. "I get it, I get it." He held out his closed fist. "No dying tonight."

Five reached forward and let Klaus drop a handful of pills into his palm.

There was enough there to overdose a man twice Klaus' size.

Their eyes met.

Klaus held up both hands, showing them off, his tattoos dark in the deepening moonlight. "Got nothing else. Promise."

Five willed his hand to stop shaking as he retracted it close to him.

If he had said the wrong thing, or had left, Klaus could have died, Five realized. He _actually_ would have died. It left him rattling with a spike of adrenaline. Even as his brother settled back against the wood windowsill, his breathing calmer and body smooth of tension lines, Five felt as if he looked away, Klaus may collapse. May overdose right before his eyes. So Five stayed. Stared. Waited for something to happen.

Regardless of whether he would be sitting for ten minutes or ten hours, Five would stay. Because at least that way, he was positive Klaus would be alive.

* * *

_Five._

Allison was an amazing cook. Not only because of the tastes she could conjure, but also because of the grace and time management he easily expressed. While Five couldn't eat most of the foods she made - thank you, apocalypse - he still could appreciate her effort. She would plate full meals for the six of them with apparent ease, creating a full array of dishes with popping colors and rich smells within a mere hour, and she did so willingly, with joy. Five had found it endearing, warming his heart a bit when she would slide him small portions of the foods he told her he could eat. Allison had proved her compassion time and time again, but in the kitchen, she seemed to shine outside of others and for herself.

Klaus, on the other hand, was a nightmare behind the stove.

More times than not, Five half-expected him to burn the entire academy down with his recklessness. Whether it was because he forgot to put oil in his pans and charred his food to shit, or because he used too high a heat in the oven, fires weren't uncommon with him. That was why they had all agreed on keeping flame retardants scattered around entire kitchen and throughout the entire academy as well, ready to snuff out whatever Klaus would spark, whether accidental or not. Usually, Five was on high-alert when it came to Klaus plus kitchen and/or food. But not with Allison, ever elegant in the kitchen.

Which is why it had caught him completely by surprise when he smelled the smoke from his bedroom.

Earlier, Allison had mentioned that she was making them dinner, and had even taken his specific order of what he could stomach that day. Moments passed, and then Five had heard the bickering. The screaming. Allison and Klaus were barking over one another, accusing each other of something that Five couldn't make out nor _cared_ to make out. He had shunned their drama to a back burner in his mind and had focused on his calculations instead.

Time slipped by, and Five found himself growing shaky with hunger. The chalk nearly slipped from his hands as he leaned back to glance over his work. He took a deep breath...

Smoke tickled his lungs.

The toxic shroud stank up the entire room, though Five could still see clearly. He whipped around, glancing to his closed door. Nothing was crawling in through the cracks, and yet the smell was _strong_ and thickening by the second. Five hopped off his bed, snapping his wrists around mid-leap to blink into the kitchen.

It was black. Nothing but black, completely overtaken by a smothering fog. Five dropped to his hands and knees, getting below the smoke to find the faint orange glow of a fire in the oven. Beyond that, Allison, coughing her lungs up from where she was leaning against the fridge, fumbling blindly in the heat. Kicking off the wall behind him, Five dove for her, scrabbling for the first thing he could grab: her ankle.

He teleported, hurtling them through through space and dropping them in the foyer by the door without a second thought. His limbs were practically liquid as he struggled to a stand, his body giving out from hunger. His stomach felt concave and tight. Nonetheless, Five grabbed her hand and lead her outside. Allison's eyes were squeezed shut, her breaths coming short as she stumbled after him. The two of them tumbled down the front steps and around the corner to where the others were pacing.

Klaus, Luther, Diego, and Vanya all surged forward, their faces bright with equal parts concern and curiosity.

"I'm so sorry, _Jesus,_ I thought you two got out already!" Klaus cried. He wrapped his arms around Allison. "I'm _so sorry!_ "

"What the _hell_ happened?" Five spat. He could hear the shrieking fire trucks approaching. Down the street, their lights lit up the buildings they passed.

Klaus looked pained as he mumbled, "I...We just got into a fight. And then the stove fucking... _blew up_. I thought she got out. Allison, I'm--"

Allison slapped her hand over his mouth, then hugged him tighter. "I'm fine." she rasped. "Are you okay?"

"Perfectly." Klaus gestured to himself as he pulled away. "I'm okay. Thank _God_ you're okay. Holy guacamole, that wasn't cool."

Five reeled back. He ignored the burning in his lungs, instead transfixed on Allison, on her heavy breaths. His face burned. Five wiped at his cheeks with his uniform's sleeve. It came back black. He wheezed.

None of that mattered, though. Allison was alive and, so, Five forced himself to breathe deep and just _relax._

* * *

_Plus One._

Being chased down wasn't necessarily ideal, especially since being chased down _and_ shot at simultaneously was double the danger. Ben only hoped that his siblings escaped alive because, from the looks of it, nothing was going according to plan. With Vanya and Klaus in the back seat and Allison and Five up front, all of them had their teeth grit against the intensity of the situation. A spray of bullets made them duck and shriek in a cacophony of octaves, every one of them shouting out. Ben sat in the footwell in front of Klaus, glancing up at him periodically.

There was nothing anyone could do. Vanya had already exhausted herself fending off the second car - wherever _that_ had went - and Allison was driving as fast as she could, all of her focus pinned on the road in front of her, on weaving in-and-out of traffic to keep them from getting killed. If Ben had a pulse, he was sure it would be kicking him in the chest, leaving him as breathless as Klaus and Vanya looked. From the front, Allison screamed, "This isn't working!"

And _damn_ , if that wasn't the understatement of the decade. Ben frowned.

Klaus spat, "What do you think _we_ can do about it?"

From the passenger's seat, Five had his hands flat on the dashboard, his eyes squeezed shut and teeth grit. He shouted out, "Just give me a goddamn _second._ "

More gunfire pattered against the back window, shattering the glass. Vanya shrieked, grabbing Klaus and slamming them both face-down into the seats. Allison swerved. Five cursed loudly. His hands were glowing, a ring of electric-blue encapsulating his wrists as a silent cry tensed up his throat. Abruptly, Five pushed his weight into the dash. The car sputtered as washes of cloudy color warped around them. A portal ate the vehicle, spitting it out a couple hundred feet away from the people shooting at them, leaving Allison to compensate in the new pocket of traffic they abruptly dropped in. She ran the wheel left, then right, then left again, easing on the break at the same time.

  
Five slumped in his seat, pale and shaky, looking as if he were holding his breath. Only when he sucked in a gasp did Ben realize it must have been too physically taxing to even _breathe_...

"What the _hell_ was that about? How did you do that?" Allison's hands were shaking on the wheel. Ben's eyes leapt between her and Five, looking for an answer. At the silence, she laughed high-pitched and giggled out, "Well, at least--"

Bullets ripped up the front of the car. Allison ducked. Five slumped sideways. The car screamed, its tires popping. Their direction gave way, pitching them nose-first down off the railing of the bridge.

Straight into the river.

Ben swore.

The water hit them like a cement wall, throttling everyone forward in their seats, snapping their belts against their chests. It flooded in through the blown-out windows, relentless and cold, judging from how everyone was sputtering and shouting, their teeth chattering loudly as they called out for one another. Darkness swallowed them whole. Ben's eyes adjusted rather quickly, but everyone else kept them squeezed shut. Water gurgled as it reached the top of the vehicle, completely submerging them within seconds.

Vanya was free first. She sluggishly fumbled around in Klaus' direction. Their hands met, then they battled with his belt together.

Ben flipped around. He could barely make out Allison's form as she kicked out through the shattered front windshield. Vanya was dragging Klaus out, out through her own window, minding the ripped-up glass. And Five--

Five wasn't even _conscious._

How had nobody _noticed?_

Klaus hadn't given Ben the power to touch his brother, but he didn't need the ability of touch to notice that Five was completely limp, not even aware that he was drowning. It wouldn't even surprise Ben if he figured out that he hadn't even been breathing...

Ben leapt for the surface. His body glided through the rolling waves with ease. As soon as he was above the water, he was looking for Klaus, for the one goddamn person who could even _hear_ him.

Klaus and Vanya were clinging to one another, trembling hard. Her eyes were wild and wide, searching the darkness for Allison and Five, no doubt. Klaus didn't seem entirely coherent. His lids were heavy and his head was tilted back as blood pooled below him, turning the river black around the cut in his forehead.

Ben slid over to him. " _Klaus!_ "

Klaus stirred with a moan. He swatted at Ben weakly. "Just... _go away_. I-I almost _d-di_ _ed_ , so just--!"

"Five's still in the car!" Ben screamed.

Klaus paled.

Vanya turned. "What's going on? Is that Ben?"

Next to them, Allison broke the surface with a gasp.

Klaus turned to her. Through chattering teeth, he mumbled, "Wh--Is F-Five with you?"

" _Five?_ " Allison's expression twisted. She was shivering as hard as they were, too."Wait, he's n-not with y-you?"

Ben slapped the water. His hand went through without a sound. Why the hell weren't any of them _moving?_ "Hurry!" he wailed. "Klaus, _hurry!_ Get--!"

"Hey!"

Everyone whipped around, looking up. In the dust-pink sunset light, Ben could make out Diego and Luther standing above on the bridge's edge.

Diego waved down at them, shouting, "Everyone okay?"

Allison shrieked, " _Five!_ He's--!"

She didn't need to finish. Diego vaulted over the railing, pencil-diving into the river. Ben dropped below the surface to follow. He was useless to help, but he could at least relay to the others what was happening. He could at least see for himself, could try and do _something_ to save Five's life.

Below, Diego was crawling through the shattered front windshield, wrestling with Five's belt the moment his hands came into contact with it. It wasn't coming loose. Ben squeezed his hands into fists, then relaxed, then squeezed again, practically willing the damn thing to let Five go.

Diego didn't wait. He freed a knife from his gear and sawed through the thing.

With Five flush against his chest, Diego kicked for the surface. He didn't look bothered by the lack of air, his strokes strong as he brought himself and Five towards the surface. Ben was thankful for that, at least. Thankful for that timing that had been near-coincidentally perfect.

_Near-_ coincidentally perfect, because as Diego surfaced, he yelled out, "He's not breathing!"

Luther had jumped into the river, too, at some point. The others had been ushered to land, likely with Luther's help, leaving him waiting in the water for Diego and Five. He swam to the pair, moving inhumanly fast through the water, splitting it in half with his giant body. Luther wrapped Five close and, without hesitation, swam towards the shoreline where the others had gathered. Klaus was sitting, hugging his knees. Vanya and Allison were standing and stiff, their expressions warped with concern. Diego was swimming alongside Luther and Five, keeping a surprisingly quick pace beside them.

As soon as Luther was able to stand upright, he was hauling Five up into his arms and running for the sand.

Ben didn't want to watch. He didn't _need_ to watch, because the moment Five's heart stopped, he would see his little brother. Five would manifest beside his body, as Ben had, and he would be given the choice: go to the light, or stay behind. And while Ben didn't want that to happen, didn't want Five to have to choose just yet, a small part of him told him that it was coming. That he should brace himself because Five wasn't going to escape this alive.

Allison was throwing her weight against his chest with every compression, and Diego was fruitlessly giving him air. Air that wasn't doing anything.

Then again, it had to have been doing something because Ben was still alone. There weren't two Fives, and Klaus wasn't crying. Not yet.

There was still hope.

Ben clung to it.

Vanya took over for Allison. Diego was consistent, almost methodical to his rescue breaths. And Five--

Five coughed, nearly spitting water up into Diego's mouth if he hadn't jerked back when he did. They all pulled away before rushing forward, caught in a gravity of concern that centered around Five as he choked on his own air. He vomited up water, but Luther held him upright and sideways, keeping him from drowning on that, too. Allison was behind him, brushing the hair from his eyes. Vanya and Diego both held a hand, holding tight when Five flailed in his confusion.

"He needs a hospital." Vanya argued.

Diego shook his head. "Mom can help him. It's too risky there."

Luther asked, "How are we getting home?"

"Didn't you guys drive?" Allison mumbled, looking to Diego and Luther.

Their conversation continued in the background.

Klaus was still planted on his ass at Ben's feet, staring wide-eyed at Five. He seemed almost mesmerized by the ragged breaths his little body managed to take in, mesmerized by the shaking of his limbs as he sputtered and struggled to even stay awake. Ben could sympathize, eerily enough: he, too, had expected Five to die.

Frenzied, the siblings gathered their composure. Diego went to help Klaus stand, wrapping his forearm around Klaus' waist, hauling his arm over Diego's shoulders. Vanya and Allison hugged each other as they walked in-stride. Luther was carrying Five, easily compensating as he flopped around before going still.

Ben trailed behind them, thankful. He couldn't say it enough. Whispering it, Ben repeated it, over and over, "thank you, thank you, thank you". Likely, he was driving Klaus nuts. But he couldn't find a shit to give.

Five was _alive._ They were all alive.

That was all that mattered.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading, everyone! Here is the [Tumblr](https://itty-bitty-rampaging-committee.tumblr.com/)! And thanks to [@reader_writer_traveller](https://archiveofourown.org/users/reader_writer_traveller/pseuds/reader_writer_traveller) for the request because _bish_ it was so good. Sorry it took a decade to write. You know I'm the embodiment of _s l o w_.
> 
> Additional thanks to everyone on Tumblr who were just the most _incredibly encouraging_ of people. You guys helped me stress less about this being A) done super speedily, and B) perfect. I'm supposed to have fun when doing this, and so, I did! All mistakes are mine and mine alone and I love them!


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